Nostalgia

I’m transitioning. I decided to get back in to the corporate workforce and start another means of getting the same places I’ve wanted to be over the last couple of years. For some people this is news that would cause them to reel and spittake…for others, they just understand how I get when I want something. I tear into it and just go.

There’s looking at new school districts, neighborhoods, and old apartments and houses smothered in layers of fashionable shades of paint. All of this seems to have gotten mechanical. There’s a part of me very excited about getting out of my small town and there’s this constant ebb in me that still feels grounded here…that holds on to the hopeless nostalgia of the place I have been raising my children and carried what could be my last baby.

Max is going to be a year old in three weeks.

I haven’t held him since he was three days old. I don’t remember what his hair smells like anymore. I couldn’t tell you how it feels to cradle him and pat his little diapered butt as he bounced and cooed on my hip. I have no clue what his baby babble sounds like from any other baby’s.

Nostalgia for things I haven’t experienced is hooking me a bit. I feel guilty for my choice and for moving on with my life. In my mind it seems like I’m trying to get away from his memory by doing this…by allowing myself to go on. I’ve felt twinges of guilt for feeling joy and hope over the last few months. Normalcy seems like betrayal. So going on with life as if he never happened and then perhaps developing relationships that could further take him off my mind–it all (however irrational) seems treasonous.

i can’t be his mother and I can’t be in limbo longing to be his mother. I’m not his mother?

Who knows. This is probably another excuse to be afraid of all the potentially beautiful, potentially disappointing, and potentially life changing conditions that have started rolling. But as I make trips to the city I’m moving to and plan and regroup, I picture this one year old little boy with big, gorgeous brown eyes peeping at me…I’m starting to realize I’m fairly haunted by a living child. Is what I’m doing or going to do worth the exchange? Is what I’m about to embark on a fair trade? Am I doing enough to make that decision worth it??

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